


make the world dance (dance to your tune)

by raloire



Series: pick a thread and pull [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, excessive rewinding, maybe a little bloodier? i'm not sure, written pre-Polarized
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-04-30 11:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5162288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raloire/pseuds/raloire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>No one. No one is going to die anymore. She'll get out of here, save Chloe and then, and then no one will die.</p>
</blockquote>Max rewinds and rewinds and rewinds again.
            </blockquote>





	make the world dance (dance to your tune)

**Author's Note:**

> i've been writing this on and off since august and originally i planned to post this before episode 5 came out,,, but my procrastination abilities are strong
> 
> anyway keep in mind there's a few differences to canon here, like max doesn't have her journal in the dark room for one! that's been left in chloe's car.

Max wakes up; her body feels sick and heavy. Her thoughts are blurred, fuzzy, almost intangible. She's in a studio, rather she's in _the_ studio - the Dark Room.

Chloe is dead.

Her breathing picks up fast, panicked, she isn’t hyperventilating, not here. Moving her arm forward – her vision blurs red. Her head hurts so, so much.

Max is lying on the sofa and her arm falls down heavy next to her. Her wrists and ankles aren’t bound together yet, she needs to get up and run as far away as she can. She needs to rewind.

“I see you’re finally awake, good to have you back with us Max. I was worried for a moment there that the dose had been too much.”

Mr Jefferson’s voice comes from further behind her. From the desk her mind supplies, he must be working on the folders, on, on some of his photos. Maybe they're of Rachel, or of Kate... or Chloe. He does always say to take the shot, perhaps after she passed out he used it as another 'photo opportunity' on her, of her cor- body, _oh Chloe._

Max lets out a choked sob. 

She hears a chair skidding against the floor and footsteps approaching her. Something rips open, duct tape.

“Now we can finally begin.”

The drugs aren't out of her system yet it seems and she's limp when he takes hold of her wrists and ties them together. Max see her fingers shaking as he moves on to bind her ankles, so maybe, she thinks with disgust, anger and shame, that maybe all that's holding her back now is fear.

But this isn't her fault. Her teacher is a monster. 

“You truly do have a gift; it’s a shame it has to go to waste.” It's not an apology. He’s moving her, ready to set the ‘session’. She feels sick, she wishes she could vomit or scream or kick him in the face, or _anything_ , but all she manages is a grunt. He sighs, and lays her down, “But that’s what happens when you go nosing around in other people’s business.”

He’s going to kill her. The thought sits heavy in her stomach. After he’s done with this sick photo shoot, he’s going to kill her just like he did Rachel Amber and Chloe.

Max doesn't cry.

* * *

Blinking back into awareness, through that medically induced daze Max had been forced into. She groans and rolls onto her back, her head lolls to the side and despite all the time she must have lost in unconsciousness she’s so, so tired.

Nathan is here. He’s trembling, his hands unsteadily pointing a gun at Mr Jefferson.

There’s no way she can escape while she’s in the middle of this. Lying in between their standoff. 

“Did you kill her too?” He asks quietly, he doesn’t sound angry, just scared – like he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“Nathan, you need to calm down and think about what you’re doing here.” Jefferson raises his arms slowly, trying to pacify him in a very soft voice that she recognizes him using earlier. Something about it is condescending, predatory even but still, very soft. 

“The police found Rachel’s body, it’s on the news.” His breathing hitches and he hisses through clenched teeth, his hands are shaking more than ever. “And, and now Victoria’s missing.”

“Nathan.” He takes a step forward, the tip of his shoes brush against Max’s arm and she flinches, feeling disgust and fear seize her at once. 

Closing her eyes Max tries to remember if Victoria had been with them. 

“Shut up! Where the f _uck_ is she?” Nathan's voice cracks but he doesn't step back. 

 "She's not here. Nathan, give me the gun." He takes another small step over her like she's an inanimate object and Max can barely breathe with him being this close, she's, she's fucking trapped between his legs.  

Max remembers someone crying. 

"Are you sure she's missing?" Jefferson asks, a hint of worry in his voice. "Isn't she supposed to be at her dorm right now? Unless she went out to celebrate with some friends."

"I, I. She's not picking up her phone and she..." he trails off. His anger being drowned out by uncertainty (and fear?), Nathan's gaze falls to the floor as he shrinks into himself and Max see's it. He's crying. It's not the first time she's seen him do this, though it technically is the first in this timeline. Either way, it's surreal to see and Max feels like she's intruding all over again.

Jefferson slowly begins to move closer to him.  

" _Please_ ," he's begging, whimpering while scrubbing the tears away with his sleeve, "please, please."

"Shhhhhhhhhh, it's okay," Nathan's grip on the gun is loose and Jefferson gently slides it out of his hands. 

With the situation defused the room settles into silence. Max can barely breath in it, but maybe this is for the best. She's seen Nathan become a murderer once before and she never wants to see it again. No one. No one is going to die anymore. She'll get out of here, save Chloe and then, and then _no one_ will die.

She just needs to figure out a way to escape. Nathan probably won't help her, but if she waits them out till they leave then she might have a chance. 

Max just needs to be pai-

The silence explodes and Max screams. 

Nathan is clutching his chest, and his white shirt soaks up with red in a horrid mirror image of Chloe's death in the bathroom. 

"She got what she deserved." Jefferson pats him on the shoulder just as he slips onto his knees and collapses.

Mr Jefferson is smiling when he turns towards her. 

"Hey, calm do-" 

Max stretches her fingers open and rewinds.

-

 

- 

Her head hurts.

Jefferson takes a step forward, the tip of his shoes brush against Max's arm and she grits her teeth and glares at him. 

"He killed her." She growls, voice soaked in fury and she turns back to Nathan, "He killed Victoria just like he killed Rachel and Chloe." 

"Max," Jefferson starts but-

"Shut the fuck up! Don't, don't fucking move or I will shoot you!" Nathan frantically looks around the room, and his eyes seem to settle on something behind her.

"You son of a bitch." He strides towards them, the gun in his hand only lowered slightly, "You god damn piece of -!"

Jefferson lunges at him. Grabbing at his neck and sending the two of them crashing into the table.  Nathan kicks and struggles but his hands are wrapped tightly around his throat and Max is about to watch another murder, her photography teacher is going to crush his windpipe if she doesn't do something. She needs to act now, she has to do something right now. 

Max sits up and is about to rewind when a gunshot goes off. Then another and another. 

Jefferson's body goes slack and Nathan pushes him onto the floor and scrambles backwards, pressing himself right up against the bottom of the couch as he pants and clutches at his own throat. Shakily pointing the gun back at Jefferson with wide terrified eyes he shoots again, then again and again until it does nothing but click, click, click. His grip on the gun turns loose and it falls to the floor while he stares unblinkingly at Mr Jefferson, as if he's about to get up any minute now like a monster from a horror movie. 

Max gapes at him in silence. 

Blood pools out across the studio floor.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh god." He cradles his head in his heads, pulls his knees up to his chest and rocks back and forth slowly, "Oh fucking god. Shit.  _God_." 

"Nathan." Her voice is quiet, "Nathan, I'm sorry." She doesn't know what else to say, what can she say? 

His rapid breathing breaks into a hysterical laugh, "For what?! You didn't fucking kill anyone. I, I could have stopped this. He used me and I could've fucking stopped this." 

He grabs the edge of the table and uses it to pull himself up, "Max, I'm sorry you got dragged into all this bullshit." He walks back towards the desk, shuffles through stationary until he finds what he's looking for.

Scissors.

"I'm really sorry. I'm so sorry. Let's, let's get that tape off you." 

Once she's free, Max stands up and stretches. Nathan looks numb as he holds Chloe's necklace out to her, "This was that blue haired chick's wasn't it? I'm sorry."

Then, he walks past her and picks something up delicately near the back of the room, "Max, you should go. You need to get out of here, the storm's getting really bad outside and I sure as fuck wouldn't want to be trapped here any longer than I had to be if I were you." 

He's holding something small, a bracelet, in his hands and he slumps back onto the floor, pulls his knees back up to his chest. 

"Take care of yourself." She mumbles and heads towards the entrance, putting on Chloe's necklace.

She's going to fix this. No one is going to die next time.

As Max opens the door, she hears him whimpering, "Victoria. God I've fucked up so bad, 'Toria I'm so, so sorry."

There's still a long way to go before she can save anyone. 

The humidity Max is met with as she pushes the bunker door open is such a sharp contrast to it's chilled insides that it's almost sticky, tangible. The air is thick and tense and the noise is deafening, overwhelming, it fills everything up so much so that Max could choke on it. Her chest constricts and she presses herself forwards towards the barn's rattling door - she lets the storm in.

It's too close. The Storm has already engulfed the town.

So much is at stake now, all the lives that will be swallowed up and the ones that have been stolen can't be saved if she get to her room. Her numb fingers cling to Chloe's necklace for strength. Soon. She'll fix this. 

The wind pushes against her and she's drenched immediately. Max's knees ache when they bend to brace herself against it and her arm reaches out and -

\- the door behind her is rattling. The storm is still roaring, the air cracking and spluttering with rain and electricity and she keeps pulling, the world is tinged and blurring with red. She keeps pulling. Max tastes that familiar penny rust bubbling between her lips and keeps pulling. Her lungs sting and beg for air and it hurts just as much as it did Tuesday afternoon, but she keeps pulling with her hand outstretched against the storm that will end the world.

Then everything is quiet. The air is still thick, but the world is still and Max can finally breathe. 

Her hands shake but she pushes forward with unsteady steps, praying that she can concentrate on freezing time while she makes the long trek back towards Blackwell.

* * *

Max stumbles up the steps to her dormitory, her shirt thoroughly stained with different shades of red from the blood pouring from her nose and dribbling from her mouth. It's utterly disgusting and reminds her of the worst places in the world, but soon that won't matter - it'll be a memory, a possibility that never comes to pass.

Pushing the doors open, the world comes back to life all at once. The world is ending, dying and her dorm seems to be empty, thank god. Biting through her lip to contain a scream, Max holds herself up by leaning on the closest wall while she folds into herself, hissing and gasping with pain. The roars of Acadia Bay keep her grounded - alert, overwhelmed, suffocating, terrified - but grounded and she drags herself forward.

She shambles down the corridor and collapses through the doorway of her room, hitting the ground with a soft thud against the carpet floor.

Max tries to get up.

Her fingers twitch.

Physical limitations are physical limitations it seems and Max lets out a weak, hysterical sound that couldn't be recognised as a laugh. She's so tired. If she died now then that would be the end of it, no one will pull her back and give her a second chance. She needs just one photo, any will do.

Her fingers curl into the carpet.

"Max?"

Alyssa.

Groaning, she tries to turn her head back towards her. Alyssa shouldn't be here, she can't be here. It's not safe. She doesn't even live here. Isn’t anyone evacuating?

A firm, cold hand grasps onto her shoulder and Alyssa rolls Max onto her back. She flinches back, letting out a gasp at the sight of her. "Oh my god, Max what happened to you?" Alyssa's gaze flicks upwards and she gapes at the writing on the wall, "Who did this?"

Scrunching her face up in confusion, Max murmurs, "I need a photo."

 "You've gotta be kidding me," she groans and pulls Max up into a sitting position. "Max, can you walk? ...can you hear what I'm saying?" There's a rabbit cage next to her. 

"Oh, you came back for Kate's bunny." Max's head droops and she finds herself staring at her bloody shirt, her eyelids feel heavy.

"Jeez, great work there detective. You're really out of it aren't you?"

She has to focus.

"We can't stay here. Come on Max, you've been my guardian angel all week, it's time I helped you out too."  

 "Alyssa, I need a photo _now_." 

Apparently the tone of her voice was was enough for Alyssa to take her seriously and she gentles sets Max down to rest besides her bed. From here Max can see the Storm in motion outside raging and ripping apart everything in it's wake. It's different from viewing it from the lighthouse. A lot has changed since she had that vision.

"Here." Alyssa places a bunch of photos on her lap. Then she looks away, "I know you probably want to save all of them but this storm's too dangerous to hang around in and I'm, I'm." She looks guilty,  "Max, I'm going to go get help okay? I can't carry you and Kate's rabbit out of here at the same time, I can barely carry you on your own! So, please, stay awake. I'm going to go get a doctor or something, you're going to be okay." Picking up the cage she moves towards the door, "I'll be right back, you're going to be okay, okay?" 

Next time around, Max is really going to thank her. 

She sets the photos out in front of her. It's a mixed bunch from random points during the year, a lot of them are from before she even applied to Blackwell.  Then there's her selfie, the one she took after her vision. The catalyst of this whole mess. 

Briefly she wonders if she's done this before. 

Max tosses it aside when a new idea comes to mind and she's grinning so hard it hurts, hope bursts in her chest.

Save the girls, save the world. 

* * *

She’s in Seattle again, and makes her plans from there. She could call Chloe and tell her everything but she doubts her best friend would believe her without proof and there’s no way she’s putting her in harm’s way. Not ever, ever again. 

Instead, Max steals money from her parents and starts her journey to Acadia Bay. 

She doesn't bring much with her, she can't draw attention to herself. Max only has the clothes on her back; her school bag with the money, her journal, camera and a map. She puts her earphones on with her phone switched off for comfort and takes a deep breath. 

Pushing out of the frame is excruciatingly painful, biting through her gums as she forces herself into the past Max feels drained just by leaving her old bedroom.

It's a long bus journey though, she can sleep on her way there.

-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

Rachel is in the middle of the storm, face rotten from months of decay and her bold blue earring ripped from a struggle months ago.

Max watches her towering form snarl and crush houses between her bony fingers. She watches people drown in tears reflecting the stars beyond the storm.

The storm is Rachel's revenge, it's her sorrow and loss shared with the whole world.

Her hair starts to fall out, ripped away as she's caught in the tornado and then, Max blinks and realises she's looking at herself. 

She watches her giant looming form pluck a girl from the water, trying to save her from drowning only to crush them between her fingers - not realising her own strength. It's okay, she'll try again. The girl drowns. The girl is crushed. The girl cannot breathe in her grip. The girl's spine breaks in her hand. Rewind, try again. 

Max sees herself try to move buildings out of the storm's path only for them to crumble when she pulls on them too much and rips the foundations apart. 

The storm is the price of Max's actions. Her punishment. For every life she tries to save the storm will feed on more and more and more. 

-

 

-

The corridor is full of corpses. 

Max doesn't recognise many of them, but there's a door right at the end, just beyond all of this death. Her hands shake and she carefully tries to step over one of the bodies. 

"Don't." A hand touches her ankle, it's slack grip slides to the floor and Max's eyes follow it and, "Oh _god_." she squeaks. Her shoes are wet, standing in Kate's red halo that only grows when she speaks, "Max, please don't." 

"Don't what?" Kate's eyes are unfocused, staring past her at the ceiling, maybe past that too. Her voice is faint and strained. 

"Don't go." Her head begins to loll backwards, "Please don't go."

Max swallows thickly, "Kate. You didn't jump." Deep breaths. "This is a nightmare." 

"But I did," Kate utters with a shuddering breath and then everything reverses. Her halo seeps back into her skull and her head begins to rise. 

Only for it to slam against the floor once again with a sickening crack. 

Blood begins to soak into her shoes again. Kate is silent. 

Max stumbles away, bile rising in her throat and she trips over someone's ankle. 

Nathan's ankle. 

He's slumped over Victoria's lap, crying like a child. Victoria is covered in dirt, and crumbling lumps of it fall from her mouth. "Go away. Stay in Seattle forever Max." Weakly coughing she glares at her, "Christ, I'd still be alive if you'd just left me alone. You don't even remember me being there do you?"

"Victoria, I'm so- I'm going to fix this." 

She's crying, "No one's going to find my body. Are my parents even going to find out what happened to me?" Her neck looks bruised. "I'm still so scared, god I'm just a teenager."

Max stands, "I'm going to undo all of that. You won't die."

"I already died alone. We're going to be frozen here forever." She's sobbing, "But you won't, aha whatever, good for you."

The door is just at the end of the corridor. 

"Max, just stay away from Acadia Bay."

-

 

 

-

 

Chloe's dead. Slumped on the floor, clutching her chest. She doesn't see Max, she dies alone. 

-

Chloe's dead. Slumped on the floor clutching her gut. She screams and begs Max to rewind.

 

She dies alone.

-

 

Chloe's dead. Body near unrecognisable except for her shoes. She died alone. 

-

Chloe's dead. Body near unrecognisable except for her bright blue hair. She died alone. 

-

Chloe's dead. Body unrecognisible but  _god_ who else could it be? She died alone. 

-

 

Chloe's dead. She's staring at the sky. Arms stretched out to Max and Rachel. 

-

"This is your fault."

-

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

Max wakes up in a cold sweat and with a crick in her neck, there's still a few more hours until she's close to Acadia Bay.

She's slept long enough.

* * *

"Max?!"

She turns her head back too quickly, freezes, Max is a deer caught in Chloe's headlights. It would've been better for both of them if she'd ignored her.

Chloe Price gets out of her car, questions tumbling off of her tongue as she strides over towards her and she's so beautifully _alive._ Max wants nothing more than to kiss her again, to hold Chloe's hands and feel them warm and solid in her own. 

The last time she'd seen her, Max had been drugged and there had been a deafening sound that ripped through the junkyard as Chloe fell.

She rewinds.

* * *

Someone is outside the barn.

The sound of the old motor crashing is what drew their attention, but the fact anyone was around to hear at all means she’s picked an awful time to save Rachel Amber. It’s too late now. Do or die.

Max hears them running towards the entrance and while she struggles to open the hatch, they fumble with the lock outside. It'd been tough opening the bunker door with two people before. Now, alone it seems almost impossible. She's not sure if she can do this without Chloe, but she has too. 

The hatch opens and she tumbles inside. Max can hear the barn doors' creak open and she slams the hatch shut with so much force she falls backwards and her arm reaches out on instinct. While she falls down the stairs the world is unraveling and becoming a bubbling blurry mess of reds and blacks. 

It comes to a stop just as fast though and she hesitantly walks back up the stairs, pushes on the door just to test it, and can feel that inside her bag her camera broke in the fall. 

“Shit.”

She’s rewound too far back, the lock’s back on. She’s trapped from the inside. 

Better go see if Rachel Amber is even in the bunker then. Otherwise this would have been all for nothing. Though this time she has her journal with her, if worst does come to worst she'll try again. 

The code to the bunker is the same as it was, is six months from now, thank god because otherwise Max was going to be stuck in this dark stairway until Mr Jefferson or a Prescott opened the hatch. Or, she would be if she hadn't come prepared. There's no room for mistakes now. 

She enters the bunker and rewinds again, hopefully giving herself more time in the process before flicking on the light switch. Max takes another moment to breathe, this will be the last time she'll ever be in this room. Chloe is alive and they're both safe. She steps forward and walks into the studio. 

Rachel Amber is alive.

Max wishes Chloe was here. Wishes she could’ve had this moment instead the one in the junkyard where they'd found her corpse rotting in the earth.

She runs to over to her, where's she lying on the floor curled up into a ball but held together far too still for someone whose asleep. So, so hesitantly Max reaches out and touches her shoulder - half worried about how Rachel will react and half terrified that she's actually dead. 

Rachel Amber's shoulder is warm and she flinches. Then giving a sharp hiss through clenched teeth Rachel twists and glares at her. 

“Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm here to help you.” Max recognises the tone in her voice as the same one she'd used on Blackwell’s roof nearly a week ago, about six months from now, “Don’t worry. We're going to get out of here and then we're heading straight to the police.”

Slowly helping her sit up, Rachel turns to face Max completely, and her eyes are bleary but despite that her gaze is intense as if she’s trying to stare through Max rather than at her – maybe thinking it’s an illusion, to bizarre to be true.

Max pulls out a pair of scissors from her bag and gestures towards the duct tape, making snipping movements with them and understanding, Rachel holds her wrists out towards her and Max gets to work.

“This isn’t going to make a lot of sense, but my name’s Max Caulfield” she grins shyly and scratches her nose, “and I’m from the future.”

Rachel raises an eyebrow. Skeptical. She would be too, though Max doesn't even know why she told her this. It feels like the right thing to do. 

"Max." Her tongue rolls over her name, testing it.  “You’re Chloe’s friend.” 

“She talked about me?” Her eyes widen, she probably shouldn’t feel surprised but the idea that Rachel even knows who she is, is just, surreal. Rachel Amber had been an enigma to her, someone she could only know through one-sided glass. Max had been a voyeur to the impact Rachel had left on the people around her. It had never occurred to her that Rachel had seen the impact Max had left on Chloe. 

“You can’t be from the future.” She mumbles and tries to sit up straighter, but she’s still fairly unsteady from the drugs so instead Rachel manages to slump against Max’s shoulder.

“It's only six months in the future, to be fair.” 

She stares at Max for a few more seconds, eyes full of confusion. Then Rachel’s hands grip onto her shirt.

“Explain it to me later. Max, please, let’s get out of here.”

Holding onto each other to keep themselves balanced, they rise to their feet. 

“Well _this_ is a surprise.”

In all of her excitement Max had forgotten that someone had been outside. 

Mark Jefferson walks into the studio and both girls go tense. Max's knuckles go white gripping into Rachel's shirt and Rachel's lips curl into a snarl. 

“Max Caulfield. You’re here a little too early, aren’t you?” 

What.

“What? I mean, wait, _what_? How do you know my name?” Max is spluttering. She hasn’t even submitted her portfolio yet, Mark Jefferson should have no idea who she is. She wishes that misheard him. Dread emerges in her stomach and begins eating her up from the inside. He _can't_ know her name. 

He looks excited and begins walking towards them, no hesitance in his step, "I'm glad you're here though, this will give us so much more time to work together." 

"What are you talking about?" Something boils underneath Max's skin, anger and fear and confusion all blurring together. She feels sick, she can feel herself tensing up even more like an animal backed up into a corner.

"You are going to be my greatest subject." 

She's clinging onto Rachel and if looks could kill she would have severed him in half, "No thanks."

He _laughs_ , "Aw don't be like that, aren't you a fan of my work?" Rachel lets go of Max. "I'll admit your," he looks at her and Max can feel Rachel shake with rage, "photos weren't my best work. You're not my ideal model for this after all... but it's been enlightening. You're not innocent per-se, but there's still so much youth left to scrape away at."

She's fuming, "You sick fuck." Rachel steps in front of Max and grips onto the scissors for dear life, like a warrior with a sword. Max doesn't doubt that she'd strike him down if he tried coming any closer.  "Stay away from us!"

Jefferson sighs, acting as though this were nothing more than petty classroom drama. "Y'know, it's a shame that I have to do this." He takes another step forward, "It's my fault really, I should've known the dose wouldn't work as well on you. Rachel, at least you were part of something grand instead of _wasting_ your life away in Los Angeles." 

He pulls out a gun from behind his back, "But I'm not much of a patient person and it's time to move on."

He raises the gun and Max freezes when he pulls the trigger. 

 

Rachel Amber is dead.

She's shaking; it’s the spitting image of how Chloe died in the junkyard.

Mr Jefferson walks towards her as she raises her arm, “Max-“

-

 

-

He raises the gun and -

“Rachel, move!” she pushes her to the side, and the girl loses her balance and falls down. The bullet misses her.

He shoots again.

Rachel Amber is dead. She raises her hand up again.

“That won’t-“

-

 

-

She pulls Rachel behind her. The bullet misses.

He shoots again, this time it hits Max in the shoulder and she falls to the floor in pain clutching it and screaming.

"Max!"

Another gunshot.

Rachel Amber is dead. She stretches her fingers out and pulls. 

"Stop-"

-

 

 

-

She tries going further. Her nose is bleeding again, Rachel’s saying something but she can’t hear it.

Her knees feel weak. Her whole body is in agony. The room is a mixture of whites and reds. 

Max falls and her head collides with the floor.

* * *

Max wakes up slowly with a sharp headache forcing her to focus, and find herself in the Dark Room - again, with her wrists and ankles bound with duct tape.

It's cold, she feels dizzy and there's a gross feeling pulsing under her skin. She pushed her powers too far, she couldn't fix - couldn't figure out how to protect Rachel with the time she had. Her nose is filled with dried blood, it's disgusting and drags her back to memories of the junkyard. God she can smell nothing but rust. Trapped there in that horrofic moment, a loop of failure and grief. Failing Chloe, failing Rachel, failing Chloe. With a choked sob that breaks off into a groan, Max curls up into herself, scrunches her eyes shut to become smaller, to collapse in on herself like a dying star.

So... so far, nothing good. She's back where she started.

Wait- springing back to life, Max forces herself to sit up because maybe she _did_ rewind back far enough the last time. After she collapsed Mr. Jefferson would have had no reason to shoot Rachel again right? She can still fix this, save the girls, save the world. Save Rachel, go to the police, destroy Mr. Jefferson, save-

Her heart catches in her throat, she can't breathe.

She's right back where she started.

Rachel Amber is dead.               

A bold contrast of colour in the studio burns itself into her mind.  Red and White. Colours of death.

She's not going to cry. She won't.

Max _can_ change things. She'll rewind further this time.

Resisting the urge to vomit, she closes her eyes again.

First thing's first, she needs to deal with the duct tape. Unsteadily, Max rises to her feet. Mr Jefferson has some scissors on his desk if she remembers correctly, so she'll hop over there and fumble with them enough to get her hands free before she decides to do anything else. She'll make it work.

Rachel Amber sits up.

Screaming Max falls back onto the floor with a heavy thud, and gapes at the moving corpse.

Rachel's head twists and looks directly at her with unblinking eyes.

"You are one of the most stubborn humans' I've had to deal with in a long time Maxine."

It's not her voice, what the fuck, it's not Rachel's voice. Max's shoulders heave but she stays where she is, frozen to the spot, her heart constricts as she gasps for air. The edges of the room start to blur - so biting back tears and another scream Max tastes the blood on her lips.

The corpse continues on, unfazed by her reaction and gives her a pointed look.

"You've changed the timeline _again_." They drawl and whoever - whatever it is, their voice is dripping with annoyance. It seems on top of everything that's been happening, Max has managed to piss off something that can possess the dead.

They sigh, Rachel's head lolls backwards just a bit too much and her eyes roll back into her skull.

"Max, you're dragging this out. You're wearing yourself thin, shortening your lifespan in the process." Rachel's face twists into a grimace and her arms clumsily gesture to herself, to Rachel's corpse.

"Just like how you've shortened Miss Amber's life here."

She's definitely going to be sick.

"I'll allow it; I don't enjoy people suffering Max."

"You'll _allow_ it?" Max's voice is dry, drier than whoever it is she's speaking too.

"I cut the strings, that's what finishes it off all nice and neat, the only exceptions I make are for the ones who are early." Pausing the corpse focuses its gaze back on Max, "like Kate Marsh."

Max almost wishes Nathan would walk in, just so someone else can confirm that she's actually talking to Death and not just stuck in some grotesque nightmare.

"Max you need to stop interfering. You can't beat me."

Opening her mouth to reply, Death barrels on, uninterested.

"I must admit. I didn't think you would go this far back again. Not after that little incident with _William_." They say his name like it's the most disgusting thing in the world. "I knew you'd try to save Chloe again since you seem so adamant about that, but coming all the way here for Rachel? You're just relentless. Your little hero act is giving me a headache."

Anger bubbles in Max's chest.

"Max," it must be clear on her face too, as Death groans and pushes the corpse up to their feet, "Max, please. You're making things worse for yourself, for everyone. I know it's hard for you humans to accept but _please_. More people like Kate will die if you don't listen to me."

With unsteady, loud steps Rachel's corpse begins to walk over to her. Death stays silent then, apparently using all of their concentration. It takes her, it – them a while to shamble over towards her and the silence is heavy, suffocating and mostly just awkward at this point. Watching this other worldly being who claims to control their fates struggle to take their first steps like a toddler, like Bambi, while blood is smeared around the floor is _weird_ ; weirder than anything Max has ever seen. She’s still rooted to the spot as the corpse falls to its knees in front of her and then, all too quickly Rachel's face is inches from hers. The sight makes her heart skip a beat. Skip several beats. Max _cannot_ breathe. She can see where Mr. Jefferson shot her, Max tries not to focus on it but oh god it's right there.

"I was hoping that you'd get the point on your own, I don't usually have to be so upfront about these things. Chloe Price is dead and really, it's for the best."

Death pulls at Rachel's face once again, trying to give her a smile. It's mostly teeth.

The worst thing about this, Max decides, is that they're wearing Rachel Amber's face like a party costume. Using her to convince Max to let them all die.

"You've just gotta let go." 

" _Fuck_ that." Max snarls.

She squirms backwards, further away from the corpse as Death groans, burying Rachel's face in her hands and then, finally, it leaves - Rachel collapses onto the floor.

And Max rises back on her feet once again.

* * *

It's early spring, 2011 when Max collapses with a nosebleed. 

Max wakes up gasping and consumed with homesickness for Acadia Bay. 

She needs to call Chloe.

**Author's Note:**

> ta-da! so far atropos has become a prologue to a set up to the actual story! which should have an endgame of rachel/max/chloe
> 
> but knowing how long it took me to write this oneshot it probably will be a while before i finish it,, so in the meantime if you have any critique on this i'd love to hear it! i absolutely need anything i can do to improve my writing so even the smallest comments help!
> 
> i hope you enjoyed reading this and have a great day!


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